


Size Matters

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cock Worship, Community: kink_bingo, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton is a size queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Size Matters

Chris, it seems, is the obvious choice. Eric made it clear in a friendly, not-at-all-offended way that his marriage is closed and he's not into boys, but Chris responds favorably to Anton's little flirtatious remarks and he meets the criteria. Namely, he's a big guy, which helps because Anton's a size queen. Usually, he's found, there's a certain proportionality principle on which one with predilections such as his can depend, exceptions made of course for that one time the skinny guy built like a beer can got him stoned and spit-roasted after a party. Sometimes, Anton's a little stupid--the group of three straight boys that let him suck their dicks while they took turns slapping him with them and calling him faggot springs to mind--but Chris is a reliable choice. He's not just responsive to come-ons, he's also respectful, and so Anton has no compunctions about inviting Chris to his apartment late one night, right before Chris is done shooting.

The disadvantage to Chris's short time on set as George Kirk is that Anton can't finesse this too much, just has to put the invitation out there and see what happens. So he counts himself very fortunate that what happens involves him on his knees in front of his own sofa, Chris's dick down his throat. There's a hand on the back of his head, trapping him in place, but it's not scary at all, Chris's soft Australian voice murmuring "yeah, fuck, suck it," and the knowledge that his throat's gonna be sore in the morning. Maybe another time, he'd like to try being dominated by the man, but tonight, it's good enough to close his eyes and let himself be dominated by one very fucking attractive cock.

"Christ," Chris mutters after five minutes of this, head falling back against the sofa. Anton smirks mentally, can't do much more than that with his mouth full. It's fun, though, to get lost in it with a guy who's appreciative, a guy who probably hasn't met that many boys who like to rub their faces against it and beg like they've done this shit a few times before. He doesn't get the impression that Chris is too jaded in the world of gay sex, and it's fun to be the one time the pornos were right. Rumor's that Chris has a girl back home, but that's pretty much irrelevant. Anton doesn't want a boyfriend. He's having too much fun at this point in his life to want to worry about shared space, about paparazzi ruining his fun, about getting seen with the same guy too many times, about a thick Russian accent down the other end of the phone line asking if there's something Mama should know.

This is better, simpler, and J.J. knows better than to ask questions if Chekov's voice sounds a little hoarse the next day. _I don't wanna know. Don't let it happen again._ That's unspoken, and Anton's never the cast whore; he only indulges once or twice in a shoot, maybe the occasional fling but then there's no fucking his throat; there are stipulations on what's allowed and what's not. Tonight there are no stipulations, and as Chris's hand tightens in his hair, as Chris's come shoots down his throat, he's glad for that.

"Fuck, man."

Anton grins and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand for show. "Beer?"


End file.
